


Longing for a name and freedom

by Evilyoyo



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fullmetal Alchemist 2003/Brotherhood Fusion, Gen, Greed Crew before they were the Greed Crew, people die but no one important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilyoyo/pseuds/Evilyoyo
Summary: Number 513 is Shadow Weaver's favorite subject. She's on the fast track to becoming the Führer of Amestris, the only thing she's supposed to do in life. But Adora finds she never wanted the job.ORInstead of the Horde, Adora and Catra were raised in a lab in Central and it's somehow way worse.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Longing for a name and freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Lets play a game I call 'Who are Adora's parents?' I don't know if I put in enough hints for her.... Catra's are rather easy if you just google it honestly.
> 
> Also this is mangahood canon, not that it really matters

When she’s seven years old she’s given her name.

It’s a hidden thing that she keeps close to her chest because it was not given to her by Shadow Weaver and that meant they would be punished for it. There is no doubt in her mind that the punishment would be a harsh one, Shadow Weaver hated when they took things and she was the angriest when those things gave them any kind of happiness. Their teacher would not be pleased if she’d known because a name, a real name, was the greatest reward. It meant they were ready to leave, ready to finally take part in the mission she’d been training them for since birth. 

Number 513, her new name still too new to really be hers yet, can’t help but think that maybe one day she’d have two names but Adora would always be the one she loved most. 

* * *

The first memory that she could recall with clarity was her alchemy test at the age of four. 

It had been endless numbers and cycles and letters. They had learned how to read by then but the words were long and the meanings of the pages in front of her were lost. It had taken her too long to understand all the elements, what they were, and what they could be. The observers muttered aloud to themselves about how her comprehension of matter was slow and could improve but her reconstruction was completely awful. About how she’d overpowered the transmutation and can’t seem to find the balance needed. How, considering who Number 513 was, she should be a natural. 

Shadow Weaver will bring it up many times as her greatest disappointment with her otherwise perfect student. 

* * *

An older memory, which she hesitated to believe was real because it was clouded and soft around the edges like a dream, was the feeling of Number 505’s fur. 

No matter how much she tries she can’t remember how they ended up how they did, her petting her friend’s soft fur. What she can remember is the feeling of surprise because she wasn’t used to softness. The pillows they were all given were hard and the blankets were scratchy and she’d never known any different. The sound of purring and the feeling of little needles on her legs from 505’s claws, which she couldn’t control yet, had soothed her greatly. In the coming years, she keeps that moment and all the ones like it close to her heart even when she can’t know if this one, with it’s soft surprise and wonder, was real or made up anymore. 

The way she can still feel the fear hidden under wonder because they weren’t supposed to be comfortable and Shadow Weaver always took away anything that was and how Number 513 didn’t want to lose this feeling yet….that pointed towards it being real. 

* * *

  
505 says she didn’t always have fur. 

505 says that before her fur grew in she’d had smooth skin instead. Before her eyes changed to be sharp with mixed matched colors of blue and yellow they had been black like ink. Before her hair became brown and wild it had been black and smooth. There hadn’t been a curling tail or sharp claws. Her ears had been small and round like everyone else.

505 doesn’t say that she hates these pieces of herself because the others like to make fun of her softness. Number 518 was the only one their age that was like her, twisted into becoming more but he wasn’t soft like her. He had rough scales and his tail was heavy enough to hurt. It takes a long time before she becomes proud of these things; when her claws finally listen, when her tail lets her balance better than any of them, and when her sensitive ears pick up things none of the others can hear. When 513 tells her that she likes the softness of her fur. 

505 also says that she can’t remember much more from before Shadow Weaver dragged her into the transmutation circle but she’ll remember the slight of their teacher while she looked down at her with a deep hatred as the pain of becoming less human forever burned into her mind. 

* * *

  
The scientists come and go. 

They are endless and nameless. When one leaves they don’t come back and another takes their place soon after. Some of these scientists are cruel and some are not. They all learn from an early age to not trust the nice ones, they are usually tests of some kind. Once a man gave her candy only for it to make her sick, her mouth swollen and she hadn’t been able to eat for days. A simple test of trust and how to never give it. Another time a gentle man had suddenly turned violent and attacked them. Number 569 has his jaw wired shut and Number 505’s arm hurts for a week after, the bruises so bad that they showed from under her fur. Just for them to learn the lesson of vigilance. 

The worst lessons, the ones that stick with her when she’s Adora and not Number 513 anymore, are the ones about compassion. The feeling of her blades sliding through the scientists, the failed ones who don’t get the results Shadow Weaver needs, the kind woman that cared for 569’s jaw, the man that once told them stories….The feeling of their meat and bones failing to stop her swords never really becomes easier. 

* * *

When she’s seven she overhears the scientists talking because they don’t think she can hear them, the shocks of lighting still racing in her muscles. Her eyes were clenched closed, the bright lights overhead still too harsh for her eyes. 

“I still think we should give her another chance,” says the Watcher. He is one of the older scientists, his hair white and face lined. Like most of the older scientists, he is neither cruel nor kind, simply a watcher so that’s what they called him. That’s probably what let him be here so long. “With her bloodline-” 

“Blood isn’t everything and Number 513 showed no talent for alchemy. We should keep pushing her talents elsewhere,” another man had disagreed. He was younger than the first though some gray peppers his black hair. He is a cruel one and likes to tug at 505’s ears during her testing. They’ve taken to calling him Sweaty Face because he has to pat his forehead all the time. She didn’t like him at all. 

“She was only four during that test, rather young to see if she’ll have any talent if you ask me.” says the newest scientist. He is the youngest scientist they had ever had, not one line on his face. She feared him though because he had wide gentle eyes and winced at times during their training. They hadn’t yet given him a name and Number 505 had told her with hard eyes to not speak with him.

“No one asked you! Number 513 isn’t to be trained to become an Alchemist, our orders were clear,” said Sweaty Face. He poked one of her shoulders and even though it was light it made her jerk her head back in pain. Immediately she wished she hadn’t, she needed to be strong, and avoiding pain wasn’t strong at all. 

“I was there for the test,” said the Watcher. “The subject showed some power and with training could possibly control it.” 

“ Bloodlines aren’t everything but come on, she’s got alchemy talent going back generations! I don’t understand how we can have such raw power in her, and in 505 too, and simply let it go to waste. It’s a damn shame. With the right training, she could easily overpower the other two already in the military, ” says the New Scientist. 

“You don’t have to understand it to follow orders, Jones. And I thought you knew better Thacher,” Sweaty Face snapped at them both. “We’re here at the will of Shadow Weaver. If she says Number 513 isn’t to be trained in Alchemy then it isn’t.”

“It?,” the New Scientist asked with a little laugh. “Is that how you get through this?” 

She still can’t see and she’s glad for it because she didn’t want to see the looks on their faces. Statements like that don’t spell good things. 

“Watch it,” Sweaty Face says after a moment. “Just watch it while Thacher and I go get 518 for its test.” 

“Aright,” he replied back. His tone was light, “Don’t let him claw you up like last time.” 

Two pairs of footsteps walked away. Slowly feeling comes back to her, to her hands and feet. She could wiggle her toes and clench her fingers. She hated these tests, where they pushed the limits of what they could handle. Shadow Weaver always said they were needed though. How else would they know that they were stronger if they didn’t test it? 

She blinked open her eyes and stared at the bright lights above her. The New Scientist was there with a frown on his face and when he saw that 513 was awake he smiled down at her. The slight made her stomach hurt but she ignored it. 

Asking questions of any of the teachers was sometimes allowed and sometimes it led to punishment . Shadow Weaver never answered anything. Asking the scientists was usually useless because like Shadow Weaver they didn’t answer most of the time. 513 didn’t like to ask them things, she never knew when it was allowed, but she was too tried to curb her curiosity. 

“What does Jones mean?” she asked with a rough voice as her throat was still sore from screaming. 

New Scientist looked surprised at the question before he smiled wider. “It’s my name,” he answered. “Jones is my last name and my first is William.” 

“You have two names?” she asked with wide eyes. This guy didn’t seem that high level and he had two whole names! The only one she’d known that had two names was Shadow Weaver. “What did you do to earn them?” 

“Be born I guess,” he said with a careless shrug. “My parents picked it out for me.” 

“Oh,” 513 sighed. For a moment she thought maybe she would have a name but it was a well-known fact that none of them had parents or family. Shadow Weaver had found them all and taken them in and so in return, they were to become the weapons she wanted. 

“Don’t be sad,” he said quickly. “Names aren’t always given to you by your parents and people change names all the time. I’ve even heard that in Ishval they have two names, one that came from their parents and one that they chose for themselves.” 

She’s heard of Ishbal of course. They were at war with the Ishvalans and had been for years now. Shadow Weaver mentioned that it was possible that she would take some of them out there once the Führer sent in the State Alchemists. So really...soon this fact will be useless because soon there won’t be any Ishvalans. “They give themselves names?”

“Yep so don’t-” 

“Jones hurry up and get the instruments ready,” snapped Sweaty Face as he and the Watcher came back with Number 518. 518 wasn’t trying to claw out of his arms but that was probably because he had a rope clenching his jaw shut. That always made him freeze up. The Watcher pushed her off the table, and she swallowed her grunt of pain. The last thing she hears as he leads her back to the barracks was Sweaty Face reprimanding William Jones. 

Later that night she tries to shake the twist in her guts about the New Scientist, now with his real name in her mind. It doesn’t work and she just knows a new lesson will be coming soon. 

* * *

“They just give themselves names?” 505 asks in disbelief as they carefully ate the food that they had hidden under the floor. Shadow Weaver was having them get ready to visit the front lines and since food was in short supply there they had to be used to going without. It was a good thing that 505 was so good at stealing from scientists. 

She tells 505 everything and her last conversion with William Jones, because even if he hadn’t earned it that had been his name and she likes to remember that instead of what came later, is no different. 

“Yeah and I think most people don’t even have to earn them! He said he got his from being born.” 

“That’s crazy…Hey,” her mixed matched eyes widened as a smile grew, “we should give ourselves a name too!”

“What?! No way Shadow Weaver will punish us so bad-” 

“We’ll keep them hidden,” 505 cuts her off with her common sharp smile. She always likes to go against Shadow Weaver when she could. It had earned her a lot of punishments and 513 worried about how many more she could take. “We hid this from her right? I bet a name would be easier.” 

Her lesson with William Jones was still fresh in her mind so she shook her head. A name was a reward, not a gift, not something they could have until they were the weapons that Shadow Weaver needed. 

“505-” 

“Ugh stop,” her friend said with a flick of her tail. “You know what? If you don’t want to name yourself I’ll just name you and you’ll have to deal with it.” 

“What!” she gasped. “You can’t do that !” 

“Can so!” 505 ponced on her, her claws not biting into her at all. She was finally getting the hang of them and hadn’t scratched 513 once in weeks. “I’m going to name you, you’ll name me and no one else will know because it’ll be just for us ok?” 

There were a hundred things that were just for them. That they shared beds sometimes, that 513 cried after her lessons, that 505 liked to have her ears petted, that they hid food… What was one more thing? 

“I think….” 505 looked at her closely, her tail curling and ear twitching as she thought. “Adora.” 

“What?” 

“One of the scientists used to call me that,” 505 said with a nod of conviction before she wavered for one moment, “Or I think so…. I just know it means nice and you're nice so that’s going to be your name.” 

A grin forms on her face and she lightly pushes her friend back. “You think I’m nice?” 

“Ugh, maybe sometimes….” 

513, Adora, thinks for a moment. Maybe Shadow Weaver will find out and they will be punished. Maybe one day instead of a failed scientist sitting before her shaking with fear as she pulls out her swords they will have her only friend there instead. Maybe Adora will fail and Shadow Weaver will kill her for it. Maybe they will try to add more animal to 505 to make her a more powerful chimera and she’ll turn mad like so many of the others have. 

If that happens… if any of that happens she wants to know she had a name and she wants something to remember her best friend like she’ll remember William Jones. 

So she looks at her friend who is still trying to take pride in her changes and decides that will be her name. Adora has always liked her for who she is and even though her name will just be for them, she wants her to know that. That seems important. 

“I think you’re nice too Catra.” 

* * *

The visits to Ishbal are awful. 

The war lasts for a total of eight years. Adora and the others have been hearing about this war for as long as they have had lessons on war and Shadow Weaver says they need to see it to truly understand. They start their visits at age seven when the war has been raging for five years and keep going back as the war continues for the next three. 

Catra hates Ishbal and when the others ask why she’ll say that it’s because it’s so hot. Her fur isn’t thin like the local animals and the sweat makes it stick to her skin. Later she tells Adora that it’s because she can smell and almost taste the bodies lying around, more so than any of them. She hates the Flame Alchemist whenever they are near him since the smell from burned bodies sticks to everything for weeks. 

Adora hates it because seeing a place that was once beautiful, and she knows it was because parts of it had still been standing when they first came, slowly turning to piles of rubble sparks a discomfort in her. She can’t understand why they are destroying this place. Shadow Weaver has always told them that the Ishvalans were too religious and that they hated alchemy so they needed to die out. 

Yet Shadow Weaver is training her to take over the country one day. She was going to be the leader of all of Amestris and Ishbal is a part of Amestris was it not? Even if some of the Ishvalans didn’t want to be a part of Amestris for whatever reason... that didn’t mean that all of them needed to die right? Why destroy a city, a part of their own country, for something as small as a couple of riots? 

Shadow Weaver’s answers never make sense to her and much later Adora is grateful that she can’t understand the total eradication of a race of people. 

* * *

Once when she’s nine their handler messes up badly.

No person in the military is supposed to see them. They are still too young to be here but Shadow Weaver had wanted Adora to see things up close, maybe even take part in a fight. Adora was no stranger to killing, having taken the lives of scientists and other subjects for years. They even had her fight men with no bodies, their very souls trapped in armor. Those fights are the hardest because armor doesn’t feel pain or tire at all. But the idea of killing these people, who hadn’t done anything, hurts but she is well aware of the danger of saying that out loud. 

In their rush to please Shadow Weaver and her will of Adora seeing war close up, the handler accidentally brings Adora too close to where the alchemists are at. She knows them by slight, they were taught all the code names of the State Alchemists and Shadow Weaver believed that knowing what the best can do sets the bar for what they had to pass it. 

The fighting had just stopped, the sound of bullet fire now coming from a different part of the city. The handler must have thought the group was farther away, the sounds echo off the ruins in a weird way sometimes. It was a group of three State Alchemists, Flame, Strong Arm and Red Lotus , along with a captain and some private. Lucky they didn’t see them, them having only just rounded the corner of a ruined building. 

Before the Handler pulls her back she sees that the Strong Arm Alchemist is holding the body of a young Ishvalan boy, he couldn’t be older than herself. The large man, one of the largest people she has ever seen, is crying. Tears dripping down his face as he just stares down at the dead boy. 

Shadow Weaver hears about this mishap and the Handler is punished. She tells Adora that the Strong Arm Alchemist may be strong in body but not in mind and he had to be sent away because of that weakness. Because she was Number 513, the one who will someday lead Amestris, she will have to be stronger than him. 

The moment with Strong Arm sticks with her, that one second that Adora saw him. It takes her a while to realize that it’s because his wide eyed look of horror and grief looked so much like her own. 

* * *

  
Shadow Weaver hates Catra and has for as long they can remember. 

When she was still Number 513 she thought that maybe some of the hate was warranted. Number 505 acted a lot when they were young, skirting the line of what was punishable and what wasn’t. If 505 had shown less promise it was likely that she would have been killed a long time ago. Yet 505 becomes Catra and her skills improve more and more everyday, until it becomes clear that her and Adora are equal in level. Shadow Weaver still calls her weak. 

The punishments are harsh and are now unwarranted. Catra is punished for everything and nothing, and Adora has to set back and watch her take it. She tries to better, tries to protect her best friend the only way she knows how but it doesn’t seem to matter. 

Over the years little things begin to pile up. Things Shadow Weaver said during Cara's punishments and things the scientists mutter under their breaths. The last thing that proves Shadow Weaver hates Catra is the day that Adora meets the thing known as Lust. 

She’s only ten. The war on Ishval is now over and she’s glad for it. She never wants to see the ruined city with it’s sand turned into blood again. They had just returned back to Centel a few days ago when she was called into a room. 

Shadow Weaver is there along with the Watcher and a few other scientists. Not unusual. The thing that makes her pause is the woman in a black dress. She’s the most beautiful woman that Adora has ever seen, with her long black hair and the small tattoo on her collarbone. Her eyes are a light purple but the total fear that runs through Adora’s body when she meets them tells her that this woman isn’t normal. It’s like meeting Shadow Weavers eyes. 

The woman smiles and something in Adora’s stomach twists. She doesn't know if it’s fear. She stays still, frozen like she supposed to in inspections.

“So this is 513,” the woman purrs. It’s not like Catra’s purring at all and she hates it. She taps a finger to her chin, looking at every inch of Adora with those very pretty and very awful eyes. “I think this one's training is coming along nicely.” 

“Thank you Lust,” Shadow Weaver says. She is more humble than Adora has ever heard her. “I’ve taken her training into my own hands. Only the best for the future Führer.” 

Lust says nothing for a moment before she smirks. “Yet you haven't trained her in alchemy?” 

Adora doesn’t let her eyes widen but she's shocked at the disrespect the woman is showing her teacher. No one talks to Shadow Weaver that way. The rare people that do are killed rather harshly. 

Yet Shadow Weaver doesn’t lash out. She simply says, “....it was believed that from her testing her alchemy would need more teaching that it was worth.” 

“Not too surprising,” Lust comments. She picks up a couple of files, which Adora knows to be hers. “considering the bloodline she’s from. Still, we are disappointed that you’ve not trained one alchemist.That was the entire point with those two and you wasted the work we did in getting them.”   
  
If she was shocked by the disrespect before it was nothing now when Shadow Weavers hesitated, actually hesitated before she answered. “There were no good candidates in the bunch with Number 513’s failure. I thought they were best used-” 

The woman laughs and steps forward to Adora, lending down in front of her. She stays still but now she doesn’t know if it’s strength or fear that keeps her still. Lust raises a hand to Adora’s face and it takes everything in her to not flinch away. With a long finger the woman tilts Adora’s head up, and the smile on her face puts so much fear into her that it’s more than Adora can say. Then she realized that the smile isn’t for her. 

“You’ve shown us great results but you've been letting your hatred of Curtis and her bloodline get in the way.” 

The shadows shake and Adora keeps still only with the knowledge that it isn’t her Shadow Weaver was mad at. “I haven't-” 

“No?” She stands with one fluid motion, the smirk only growing. “If that was true then you wouldn’t have ordered the other to be turned into a chimera before you could even test her for alchemical skill.” 

Lust looks down at her again and Adora is too surprised to jerk away when she softly pats her on the head. “I look forward to working with another woman instead of all those men.” And then Adora is pushed out the door. 

* * *

“She had to mean me right?” Catra wonders aloud that night. 

“I think so,” Adora whispers back. They are in Adora’s bed, the one farthest away from the others and they were the only ones awake. “You are the only one that never tested for alchemy.”

It’s hard for chimeras to do alchemy, they all learned that years ago. The inner balance needed to power it was hard to achieve when the alchemist isn’t completely human anymore. With most chimeras fighting a part of themselves it was all that harder. Though if any chimera could do it, it would be Catra. She was the youngest chimera they had ever seen, 518 had been changed three whole years after, and was now at pretty much at peace with her animal side.

“Curtis and her bloodline,” Catra said slowly as she tried to find meaning in the words. “Who is Curtis?” 

“I don’t know….” she hesitates before speaking of the forbidden subject. “But bloodline means you came from her right? So that means-” 

“She could be my mother,” her friend finishes. Catra's ears flatten and she curls into herself. “But even if she’s not - this Curtis has got to be my family right? That's what bloodlines mean.” 

Adora says nothing, not knowing what to say. 

“And Shadow Weaver hates me because of her. No wonder nothing I do matters, I can’t get rid of my blood. No matter how much I try, no matter how much stronger I get…. She’s always going to be disappointed in me.” 

“I’m sorry Catra,” Adora finally whispers. She moves down the bed so that she can hug Catra to her chest. 

“But why did she not want me either? I-I was a baby right? What did I do ? What is wrong with me?” 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” she says as she tightens their hug. “ Nothing ok? You are super smart and really strong and it’s stupid of Shadow Weaver to not see it. And- and I don’t know why your family didn’t want you but I’m here. No matter what happens we’ll have each other.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” 

* * *

There is a flood of test subjects at the end of the war.

As the scientists grow bolder and bolder more and more of the test subjects go insane and Adora has to cut them down. They start putting rabid souls into the bodies of the armor suits once they learn that the souls stay longer if the bodies are still alive. They make huge chimeras and make them fight them in pairs or alone. Experiments are endless, on themselves and on the new subjects. She sees more death now than she ever did during the war. 

Training becomes harsher and harsher, bloodier and bloodier. Adora fights and fights and then reads about war until it’s time to fight again. 

* * *

Catra is the one that brings her to them. 

They are twelve now and the past few years have been harsh. There is a little piece of Catra’s ear that’s missing and Adora is covered in scars. There is always something that is hurting, an injury somewhere on her. Adora doesn’t smile as much anymore and Catra can be crueler than she means but they still help each other as much as they can and comfort each other when they can.They have each other. 

Catra sneaks into other parts of the lab now, her soft steps and sharp eyes letting her into places she shouldn’t be. It worries Adora that she’ll be caught but so far she hasn’t and that's enough. During her late night wondering she finds the new subjects that were made into chimeras. She tells Adora about it late at night, how they are different from her, how they are almost human passing. Unlike so many other human chimeras they are actually sane. 

They actually speak to her, they can have conversions. 

Adora can understand some of Catra’s wonder. Number 518 is the only other chimera they see regularly and he’s lost the ability to talk, the lizard in him twisting his throat until all that can come out is hisses. He can understand them of course but it hurts Catra to know how close she came to losing her speech. How close she is to being just another animal. 

They bring her a comfort that Adora can’t but she’s all the more happy for it. 

* * *

There are four of them. 

Roa is a large man mixed with a bull. According to the scientists he is the most successful out of the group, able to change from a mostly human form into a more battle ready one at will. He is quiet and doesn’t talk much but lets Catra climb on him and doesn’t mind that Adora keeps challenging him to arm wrestling matches. 

Dolcetto is a short man mixed with a dog. He is a failure because he has little dog in him at all, no extra fur or sharp teeth. He tells them funny stories though and teaches them games with the cards Catra stole. 

Bido is another short man but he is mixed with a lizard thing called a gecko. He is the biggest failure, his body too twisted by his new blood. He is racked with pain often and according to the others is now mush shyer. He also doesn’t speak much but he comes around after a while and joins in often with Dolcetto. 

Martel is the only woman in the group and she’s mixed with a snake. She’s like Dolcetto in that she’s a failure for having little of it showing. Unlike him though it’s that the trait they wanted simply didn’t appear. They wanted poison but instead Martel is more agile, more bendable. Not a complete failure like him, she teases him often. 

They are a nice group and Adora finds herself smiling more again. 

* * *

It is Martel that makes her question things. 

She is nice to them, even more so than the others. Roa and Dolcetto both show worry for her, Roa by showing Adora how to more easily overpower her enemies, Dolcetto by giving her tips on how to use her swords. Martel asks about how she feels after their lessons, gives her tips on how to deal with them. They all do the same with Catra. It’s strange to have someone other than Catra worry over her but it’s nice. 

One day Shadow Weaver punishes Catra for nothing and it puts her into a mood. Dolcetto is the one that picks up on it but Martel is the one that asks Adora about it while the others distract her with a card game while she pulls her aside, knowing by now that Catra won’t answer. 

Adora hesitates but answers truthly. It’s been two years since Catra learned of Curtis and she doesn’t really speak of it. She knows it still hurts her friend to know that she wasn’t wanted and Catra doesn’t get upset about it as often anymore but she never knows what to say to her about it. Maybe Martel, with her grown up wisdom, will know what words to say. She hopes that when Martel frowns and tilts her head in thought that she’ll finally have them but instead the older woman asks her a question. 

“How does she know she wasn’t wanted?” 

“Shadow Weaver said-” 

Martel shakes her head, cutting her off. “Kid, you can’t trust a word that woman says. You know that right?” 

Adora does. Adora’s known that ever since she was Number 513 and Shadow Weaver said 505 wasn’t good enough. 

“So why do you think she was telling the truth about that? None of us are here willingly, why would you be any different? If she hates the little cat so much that she refuses to even think about training her then I doubt that she took her in out of the bigness of her heart. Hell it’s even possible that they kidnapped you.” 

She can only blink in shock, “Kidnapped?” 

Martel’s green eyes softened. “It’s just a possibility alright? But from what you’ve guys said about your little program…. how she hates Catra’s bloodline and how you were supposed to be an alchemist because of your own bloodline, well. That points to these people looking for you. Looking for little kids that had the possibility of power. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe your parents are the worst kind of people there is in the world. But there is also the chance that you were taken from loving homes to become weapons.” 

Adora doesn’t know what to say about that. 

* * *

Catra, however, does. 

“Are you an idiot?” She’d loudly scoffed. “Of course that is a possibility. You’ve never thought of it?” 

“No,” she says a little hurt. “I never thought my parents wanted me.” Shadow Weaver had said that when Adora still believed her words and she never thought to go back and question old lies. 

“Come on Adora, Shadow Weaver lies all the time. Why would this be any different?” 

“Why are you so sure that Curtis gave you up then?,” she counters. Adora hadn’t thought that Catra had already thought about this since she herself hadn’t. Why was Catra still so upset about Curtis then? “Maybe you were kidnapped like Martel said! You don’t know-” 

Catra scoffed again and turned her eyes away, “It doesn’t matter if she did or not.” 

She can’t believe her ears.“Of course it matters! You- we could both have parents that miss us, that never wanted to let us go and then Shadow Weaver stole us! We could have families out there, real ones-” 

“You are the only family I need Adora!” Catra snaps at her. Her voice was harsh, “I don’t need some-some fantasy family with a mom and a dad! What have they ever done for me besides making my life hell because Shadow Weaver hates them? They didn’t come save me, they didn’t stop me from being twisted into something not human! They would probably think I’m a monster.” 

“You don’t know that,” Adora said firmly. “You don’t know that at all. All we know about Curtis is that Shadow Weaver hates her and if anything that should make you like her.” 

Catra’s mouth twitched, almost into a smile before a uncertion look graced her face. “Do you really think she wouldn’t hate me for,” she waved at hand overself with her cat eyes, tail and ears. “Even if she didn’t give me away I’m not the person that was stolen.” 

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “But I know I like you. I know that Martel,Dolcetto,Roa and Bido like you. You can’t immediately think the worst of her just because Shadow Weaver is awful.” 

“Maybe...maybe you're right. But it still doesn’t matter,” Catra points out with a sad smile. “Because I don’t know her. I never will because we’re locked up in here.” 

“When we’re done training-” 

“Adora,” she says softly. Like she does when she wakes her from her nightmares.“Do you really think they will ever let us know who our parents are, let alone meet them? Even when we leave we’ll have to do their bidding until the day we die. Why do you think I never wanted to talk about it? All it does is hurt.” 

She’d always said the same thing about talking with the new scientists. But this… she couldn’t let this go. 

* * *

Adora was supposed to be strong .She was supposed to be the leader of this entire country when she was ready. She was supposed to follow Shadow Weavers orders until the day she was granted her real name and was unleashed into the world. And then she would follow the orders of the people above Shadow Weaver.

Yet what had Shadow Weaver ordered? Nothing but pain. Nothing but death. What had those above her ordered? An entire city burned to ruins. An entire race of people erased from this world. The sight of Strong Arm holding the body of the little boy burned behind her eyes.Catra was right and Adora was ashamed to not think of it. Adora had fooled herself into thinking that just because she was going to be the Führer that she would have any control there. 

She wouldn’t. She never did. 

* * *

When they were younger, old enough to want something different but young enough to still think they could leave, they would whisper about sneaking out. 

It was a simple fantasy. Like the wishes of playing outside. Like eating candy. Like hearing stories while they were going to sleep. And they faded with harsh lessons. Other subjects that tried to leave and when they got caught were killed by sword or claw.

Adora started them up again and this time they were not a simple fantasy. 

* * *

Catra wasn’t happy at the start but Adora slowly wore her down.Her friend thought at first that Adora wants to leave to find her family and that Adora was going to abandon her for people she’s never met. 

It takes more than a couple nights for Adora to explain. Explain that killing the people placed in front of her has worn her down piece by piece. That she worries that Shadow Weaver is going to put them against each other one day. That she had fooled herself by thinking that if they just kept going then all the blood and pain would end. But now she knows that even if it does she’ll have to order the death of people that never did anything wrong when she’s supposed to be their leader. 

She swears and promises that no matter what happens they will be together and thankfully Catra believes her. 

* * *

They decide to not share their plan with Numbers 518, 569 and 520. 

Number 569 can’t keep a secret, can’t fight worth a damn and he’s the most scared so he may tell on them out of fear. Number 520 is more devoted than anyone besides Adora and they can’t be sure that she’ll willingly give up her position of Shadow Weaver’s second favorite. And if either of them stay then 518 won’t leave either. 

That leaves Martel, Dolcetto, Roa and Bido. And as luck would have it turns out they already started planning their own escape. 

It still takes weeks to plan. Catra and Bido roam the halls, reporting back to Martel about the weakness because Martel used to plan these kinds of things during her time in the army. Adora steals a map of Central and Dolcetto, the only one that visited Central before being trapped here, helps plan their escape route. Roa just tells them to point him in the right direction. 

* * *

Adora welds two swords, much like the man she’s been groomed to take over for. 

Shadow Weaver has told her all about the raw skill that King Bradley has and how she had to be better. Bradley’s swords are a type of sword called a spadroon and they were the thing that let him be so fast and agile. They were light swords with a straight-edged blade and he could cut a person open with them before they blinked. In the hands of lesser men they would be rather useless now that guns were common but he was faster then any gun.

Adora wasn’t as fast as him and couldn’t even hope to be. One day, however, she was going to be stronger than King Bradley could ever hope to be. Her weapons reflected that. 

Her swords are heavy and large by any kind of normal standard. Next to her, they seem even more massive. They are taller than her but she welds them anyway. She’s thirteen, not yet finished growing but she’s trained every day with them since she was ten, when she was given something bigger than her training sword. Her strong arms never waver with the weight. Her strong shoulders swing them around in quick arcs with ease. Her strong back thrusts them into solid stone and back out again. 

She was made to fight. She was made to kill. 

And as Adora cuts through the men trying to stop her and her friends from leaving she thinks they should have done a better job at making her weak. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you guys want more for this. It was getting WAY too long and I was starting to realize that if I was going to keep going the format seemed weird so when I couldn't find an endpoint so I made one.


End file.
